


Not The Nurturing Kind

by Cones_McMurphy



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Cassian is kind of a baby about being sick, F/M, Pre-Relationship, Sick Fic, everbody lives AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:36:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9139114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cones_McMurphy/pseuds/Cones_McMurphy
Summary: Jyn Erso didn't have much experience with influenza, and she had even less experience with taking care of people.





	

**Author's Note:**

> AU where everyone survives Scarif, and the Rogue One team keeps running missions for the rebellion. Set between AU versions of A New Hope and Empire Strikes Back.

Jyn Erso wasn’t used to worrying about people. In Saw Gerrera’s militia, it was, for the most part, everyone for themselves. She vaguely remembered worrying about her father and mother, but that was long ago. She’d worried about everyone that day on Scarif, but somehow they’d survived. They’d gotten the Death Star plans to the Alliance, and it had been destroyed. There were whispers of a new Death Star being built, but no solid evidence. Jyn, Bodhi, Chirrut, and Baze were all with the rebellion now, and Jyn had a sense of security, for the first time since she lived on Coruscant as a child. But it was strange having people to worry about. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the feeling of dread in her gut when something happened to one of her friends--she’d decided to start calling them friends, because comrade reminded her too much of Saw Gerrera, and colleague felt like an understatement. She especially wasn’t used to it when it came to Cassian.

Cassian and Jyn had gone on most missions together since Scarif; they were a team, partners, even. Cassian was the first person who ever stuck around, and she was terrified of losing him. When she worried for his sake, it was deep and gnawing and she couldn’t compartmentalize it. It festered in the back of her mind until he was standing in front of her again, close enough to touch.

It struck her as soon as she entered that morning’s debrief. Cassian wasn’t there. He was _always_ there before her, murmuring to Mon Mothma about something, or arguing with Draven, or occasionally teasing Bodhi about his flying on their last mission, if there was nothing else pressing. That morning Cassian was nowhere to be seen. Jyn stood frozen still for a moment, processing, before she heard her own voice call out, “Senator Mothma!” Mon Mothma stopped in her tracks, and made her way towards Jyn.

“Yes?”

“Where is Cassian?” Jyn demanded. Mothma seemed to bristle slightly at her tone.

“I don’t know. Perhaps he’s just running late.”

“He wasn’t sent on a mission that I don’t know about?”

“Not that I’m aware.”

“Oh.” Jyn’s worry increased as Mon Mothma walked away. If Cassian was on a secret mission that Mothma didn’t even know about, it was, in all likelihood, very dangerous and very stupid. _Why wouldn’t he tell me?_ Her hands curled into tight fists. She scanned the room, hoping somehow she just missed him, but he wasn’t there. She caught sight of Draven, and wanted to ask him if he had anything to do with Cassian being gone, but Mon Mothma called the meeting to order before she had the chance. She only half-listened as Bodhi recounted their last mission. She kept her eyes locked on Draven, searching for any tells of a half-baked scheme, but she saw nothing but calm in his countenance, maybe even boredom. Draven caught her staring just as Bodhi was finishing up, and Bail Organa started speaking. Jyn averted her eyes, but she knew the damage was done. When the meeting adjourned, Draven came straight to her.

“I know what you’re thinking, Erso, but I’m not the reason Andor is gone. He stopped taking orders from me when you showed up, and I think you know that.”

“Fine.” Jyn knew Draven was right, but she still suspected him. She had no other explanation at that point. She asked around some more, but not even K-2SO knew where Cassian was. After that, the only option left to her was the off-chance he was still in his quarters, but she doubted that. She pounded on his door until she heard his voice, rougher and deeper than usual.

“Hold on, hold on, I’m coming,” he said, and punctuated it with a cough. The door swung open and Jyn was stunned by the sight before her. Cassian wore a white undershirt and woolen pants, his hair was mussed and his eyes were glassy and red. His face was flushed and puffy, like his sinuses were about the explode.

“You’re sick.” Influenza. She’d seen these symptoms before when she was with Saw Gerrera’s group, and before that when she was a child.

“Yeah.” He sniffed.

“Do you have a fever?” Without thinking about it, she placed the back of her hand to his forehead, as her father had done for her a few times when she was a child. His skin was hot, and slimy with sweat. “You’re burning up.”

“I know.” He motioned for her to come in, and shuffled back to his bed. She closed the door behind her, but didn’t venture farther into the room.

“You missed the morning debrief.”

“I know.” His voice was muffled by his pillow.

“I…” Jyn cleared her throat. “I was worried,” she admitted. Cassian sat up, produced a rag from underneath his blankets, and blew his nose into it. “You never miss a debrief, if you’re able to go.”

“Do I look able?” Cassian snapped on the edges of his voice, and then, as if to emphasize his point, he sneezed a mucus filled sneeze into the rag.

“I guess not.”

“Besides,” he wiped his nose, “Did I really miss anything important?”  Cassian had a point. Ever since Scarif, most of the fighting was being done through the rebel base on Hoth. Base One was still active, of course, but the Empire didn’t know that it existed, and that was the only way to keep the survivors of the Battle of Scarif safe. Most of the debriefs were watered down versions of what was actually happening to keep the admirals and senators happy.

“Guess not,” Jyn shrugged. She stood awkwardly for a few seconds, and then started to turn towards the door, “You should rest.”

“You’re really gonna leave me?” Cassian asked in an exaggerated tone, “But I’m so sick. Jyn, I can hardly stand. What if I need something?” He pouted. This was a side of Cassian she hadn’t seen before. He seemed younger somehow. No one in Saw Gerrera’s militia had ever seemed so vulnerable when they were sick.

“I…What?”

“You think Kay is gonna take care of me?”

“I don’t...I’ve never…”

“Just stay with me?” His voice was soft. “Please?”

“Okay.” She sat on the foot of his bed and watched him snuggle himself down into the blankets and fall asleep. She watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, and let herself relax for the first time since that morning. She was glad Cassian had gone back to sleep. She had little experience with influenza, and even less with taking care of people. There was one night, on that old farm house on Lah’mu, when her mother had been sick with influenza. She had helped her father cut up vegetables for soup, and watched from the corner of the room as Galen had given Lyra honey and lemon to soothe her throat. She glanced back towards Cassian, who was sound asleep and snoring loudly, and wondered how long he’d be asleep. _Hopefully long enough_ , she thought, and stood up slowly from the bed.

* * *

Cassian awoke to see Jyn standing by the small wooden table near his bed. She’d turned on the small lamp, and placed a steaming pot on the table next to it. He almost didn’t expect her to be there when he woke up; she wasn’t the nurturing kind. “You’re here,” he managed, his throat still felt raw.

“I made you some soup.” She gestured the to the pot on the table.

“Oh,” He sat up and adjusted himself to eat. “Wow.” 

She handed him the pot and well as a spoon, “Eat it.” Cassian did as he was told. It was mostly vegetables. He was too congested to taste any spices in the soup, but he assumed there was something. He ate slowly, just in case he couldn’t keep it down. As he ate, he combed through his memories. He tried to recall the last time someone had taken care of him when he was sick. He just barely remembered the sound of his mother’s voice telling him to rest, but it was too many lifetimes ago to feel like anything more than a dream. He put down the spoon and glanced up at Jyn, who is still standing stiffly, watching him. He caught her gaze for a few seconds, before she looked away.

“You should drink some water,” Jyn took the canteen off her shoulder and handed it to him. He took a long sip. The cool water momentarily eased some of the burn in his throat. He drank until the canteen was empty, and handed it back to her.

“I brought something else,” she produced a small jar of what looked like honey. “My mother got sick like this once, and my father gave her honey and lemon, so...here.” She shoved it towards him. He took it gratefully and set it down next to the soup pot.

“I’ll try it later.” He looked back up at her. “Jyn?”

“Yeah?” She looked at him expectantly. There were so many things he wanted to say. _Thank you for being here. Thank you for caring. Thank you for worrying about me._ He settled for something simple.

“Thanks.”

 


End file.
